


Us And Them

by feltpen



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Realities, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Doppelganger, Explicit Language, M/M, Meeting themselves, Minor Violence, Multiverse, Oral Sex, meeting their twins, smut with themselves, some physics stuff, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feltpen/pseuds/feltpen
Summary: This story starts after season 10.“Ian.” Mickey’s voice was deep and full of caution. Hearing his partner so unsure made Ian’s heart rate speed right back up.Then Ian realized what Mickey had. The two people stood there, looks of confusion on their faces as they looked around. One was taller with red hair falling into his face. The other was shorter with black hair, strands sticking out from their gelled prison.They were them.Ian and Mickey.“What the fuck?” Ian said.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 26
Kudos: 73





	1. The light

“Yo, Mick, throw me a coke.”

“Here Gallagher.” 

Ian dropped the pellet gun to his side and swiftly caught the incoming can. He saw Mickey give him a once over and bite his lower lip. Ian grinned.

Since they had gotten married, they had been exploring how to be together in the slow times as well as the hectic, crazy times of the Southside. They were used to the crazy times, but learning how to chill together was kind of new and comforting. They had been exploring their freedom in the bedroom too, unafraid to let the tiniest things turn into make out sessions, quickies on the closest surface, or long teasing satisfaction in the actual bedroom. It had helped that they were now renting Lip’s house down the road from the Gallagher house on South Wallace. Lip, who always was a genius when he wasn't in his own way, had convinced old Mrs. Johnson a few blocks away to let him lease her house after she moved to a retirement home. Now he was living relatively cheaply with Tami and Freddy there. They were slowly working to buy the place completely one day. That meant Mickey and Ian could have the whole other house to themselves as long as they paid Lip a bit and helped finish the renos.

Having their own space had been hard at times, but overall their relationship was better than ever. And the freedom they felt, despite the time left on their parole, was fucking fantastic.

Ian cracked his can of pop and chugged half of it. He let out a sigh then a belch. 

Mickey let out a burp of his own and stood up with his now empty beer can. He went to place it on the cement chunk where their targets were lined up. Then he turned to approach Ian. Ian raked his eyes filthily over his husband's thick, firm, slightly tanned biceps. 

“See something you like?” Mickey’s eyebrows raised teasingly.

“Mmm.” Ian leaned towards him. “More than one thing.”

“Well keep it in your pants a bit longer. My turn.” Mickey grabbed the long pellet gun from Ian's grasp, making sure to rub his calloused fingers over the back of Ian's larger hand. 

Ian swallowed and moved back. He sat on the wooden stool they had found in a different abandoned building and brought to their favorite spot. This rooftop space gave them some privacy because the walls were still standing, but gave them access to the Chicago sky, making it feel open. He sipped his warm coke and enjoyed the view in front of him. 

Mickey… his hands cradling the gun with familiarity… face scrunched up in concentration… skin shining slightly with sweat in the sun… ass and thighs pressing against his black shorts… just begging to be freed...

Ian knew they weren't going to make it home before their lust took over. So he just waited and watched. His pulse jumped slightly at every BANG from the pellet gun. And he saw Mickey hit every shot. Typical. It was fucking sexy. 

Once every can had been knocked off, Mickey lowered the gun. He turned to Ian with a smug smirk. He knew that was hot. 

“C’mere.” Ian said, leaning back on the stool and dropping the can in his hands. 

“Give me a sec.” Mickey turned to put the gun into the ripped duffle bag. Then he stuffed it into their hiding spot; a deep gouge in the concrete floor. Then he placed the broken old wooden door over the crack to hide it from view. 

When he finally made his way over to Ian, the redhead was licking his lower lip, ready to be on his lover. They didn’t speak, they didn’t have to. Mickey placed his hands on Ian's thighs and leaned in. They paused, faces inches away, gaze flitting between lips and shining eyes. Mickey closed the distance and their mouths met, open and ready. Ian's tongue immediately sought entrance and swiped over the flavor of beer and Mickey. The black haired man's hands rose to gently squeeze Ian's upper thighs as they kissed. Soft sounds of contentment and desire started leaking out between their tongue heavy kisses. 

Ian's hands gripped Mickey’s ass and he pulled him between his spread knees. After some long moments of leisurely making out, he pulled away with a wet lick over Mickey’s bottom lip.

“How you wanna do this Milkovich?” His voice was low and gravelly. 

Mickey’s eyes glanced around quickly. He nodded his head to one side. “Bend me over that windowsill.” 

Ian gave a deep, grumbly growl. He pressed Mickey's hips back. “Get that perfect ass over there.” 

Mickey grinned and took a few steps back, not taking his eyes from Ian. Ian stared right back. 

Then Ian saw something. Something over Mickey’s shoulder, near the concrete wall on the other side of the open space. Ian blinked a few times. It was just a wall. So he focused back on his hot and ready husband. 

But then he saw it again. A flash. Like a blue light sparking on the wall. Ian frowned. 

“What?” Mickey asked, obviously confused by Ian's distraction. 

“Um... I saw something over there. Like a light or something.” 

“What?” Mickey repeated and turned around. 

Ian stood next to him. And it happened again, but this time the blue light sparked and grew. It was blinding like the piercing flame of a welding torch. It flashed and grew for a few seconds. Then it was gone.

The two men looked at each other, eyes wide and eyebrows raised.

“What the fuck was that?” Mickey muttered.

Ian gave a small shrug and stared back at the spot. He blinked trying to rid his vision of the dark spot left behind by the bright light. 

“Ian.” Mickey said louder. “What the fuck wa-”

He was cut off when the light was back. It sparked and grew larger. It expanded on the wall, about four feet in the air, getting brighter. Both men instinctively raised their arms in a vain attempt to shade their eyes from the blinding light. They also took a step back towards the wall behind them and leaned closer so their shoulders were touching. 

Ian barely noticed his adrenaline rising and his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. The light formed a large circle and looked like it was melting or sparking on the edges. 

“The fuck?” Mickey gasped as he gripped Ian's forearm. 

Ian spared him a quick glance before trying to make out the light without staring straight at it. There was a strange set of shadows that made the light less intense. But it only lasted a moment. Then two shapes seemed to fall out of the light onto the hard concrete. 

Ian gasped. He couldn't see anything clearly with that intense blue light beating into the open space of the rooftop. Mickey's grip on his arm tightened. They were both trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. They were adverting their eyes from the painful light while still trying to look at it. 

And then, as if dusk suddenly fell, the light disappeared completely. The summer sun was nothing compared to that eerie blinding blue light that was there one moment, gone the next. 

Ian's hand wiped at his eyes. He had intense spots in his vision even when his eyes were closed. And he could feel his eyes pulsing with dull pain. 

“Fuck Mick. You ok?” Ian looked over trying to see Mickey through the light seared into his retinas. 

“What the fuck, Ian?” Mickey was almost yelling, also rubbing his eyes. “What the actual fuck?”

Ian clutched at Mickey's shoulder and back. They embraced quickly, letting their heart rates fall slightly as they found comfort in each other. 

Then there was a sound from the direction where the light had been. Something like a groan. 

Ian and Mickey turned towards the sound. Ian could make out two shapes on the floor. Things that had not been there before. 

A voice.

“What the fuck was that?”

Ian and Mickey glanced at each other. That voice sounded familiar. The shapes on the ground moved and stood. Ian was starting to make out details as the spots in his eyes cleared. It looked like two people. But where the fuck had they come from?

“Ian.” Mickey’s voice was deep and full of caution. Hearing his partner so unsure made Ian’s heart rate speed right back up.

Then Ian realized what Mickey had. The two people stood there, looks of confusion on their faces as they looked around. One was taller with red hair falling into his face. The other was shorter with black hair, strands sticking out from their gelled prison. 

They were them.

Ian and Mickey.

“What the fuck?” Ian said. 

A second later, he heard the same thing repeated back in a creepily familiar voice from an unnervingly identical face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm stoked on this story idea. I wanted to post a quick intro chapter to force me into staying on top of writing. (my semester is almost done, so I'll have more time over the next few weeks... hopefully)
> 
> Advance warning:  
> This story will involve Ian and Mickey doing it with... Ian and Mickey the doppelgangers. If that weirds you out, then don't read.


	2. The meeting

There was stunned silence for a few moments. Long, eerie moments when four sets of wide eyes scanned the scene over and over. This couldn't be happening, right?

Mickey finally snapped out of his silence and barked out. “Who the fuck are you and what the fucking shit is going on?”

The other Mickey replied just as harshly. “Tell us who the fuck you are. And why do you look like us?”

“You fucking first.”

“No you.” 

Mickey took a menacing step forward but felt Ian's hand on his arm. He stilled and glared at the two anomalies in front of them. The atmosphere around them was tense, like a standoff, but none of them knew what the stakes were or why they were fighting.

“Tell us your names.” Ian's voice was shaky but kept an air of command about it. “And tell us what that light was.”

“Thought you might tell us, you freaky twin motherfuckers.” Other-Mickey snapped.

Mickey took another step forward, this person who looked and sounded just like him was pushing all the wrong buttons. 

“Mick.” Ian's warning voice was loud. “Don’t.”

“Mick?” The Ian look-alike glanced between them.

Mickey sighed. “I'm Mickey. He’s Ian. Now who the fuck are you?”

The other dark haired man's mouth was agape and he seemed unable to speak so the new Ian said. “Um... he's Mickey and I'm Ian. But I go by Clay.” 

“Clay?” Mickey snorted. He felt Ian grip his arm in slight warning not to start anything.

“Clayton is my middle name and I have always gone by it instead of my first name. My family started it… and now Mickey calls me… Clay.” While Clay spoke his body didn’t move, obviously shocked as his mouth rambled.

Mickey interrupted him. “So how do we have the same names and look exactly alike? Huh?”

Everyone was silent. 

“The light.” Ian cleared his throat. “Did you guys see it?”

“Who could fucking miss it?” Other-Mickey replied. “It just grew out of… nowhere. And we like… fell… to here.”

“So are we, like… the same?” Ian asked quietly.

There was another beat of silence. 

Then Other-Mickey gripped Clay's hand. “This is too fucked. I can’t…. Let's get outta here. They can’t be real…”

He started dragging Clay towards the exit. Mickey was still feeling shocked and confused, but he had sense enough to know he needed answers. And he wasn't letting those creepy fuckers get away without getting some. 

“No.”

Other-Mickey shot him a glare. “Fuck off, you weird hallucination douchebag.” He kept yanking on Clay's hand. 

Mickey’s body reacted before he could think it through. He ran at them and tackled the other Milkovich looking man to the floor. He heard Clay's yell of concern but ignored it. When Mickey Milkovich was confused and angry and in shock, his fists took over. He pressed the other man to the concrete and landed a hard punch to his cheek. And another. And as he pulled his fist back, ready to rain down again, his brain caught up to his body.

He was on top of a body _exactly like his_ , looking down on a face _identical to his_. His own blue eyes glared back up at him and hands just like his were shoving at his shoulders.

Mickey had _hit_ him. It wasn’t a hallucination. This was fucking happening. 

“Get the fuck off me.” growled Other-Mickey.

Mickey heard Ian's voice. “Mick, come here.” Then strong hands were dragging Mickey up and off the other man. 

Mickey went willingly, another wave of _this can’t be happening_ shock rushing over him. He watched as the other him sat up and Clay knelt down beside him. Mickey steadied himself on his feet. Then he realized three pairs of eyes were staring at him. He swallowed, pushing down the urge to beat his confusion away with his knuckles. He took a few deep breaths as Ian's hand made it to his shoulder. 

Finally, when most of the violent tension melted away into simply-confused tension, and their breaths were back to normal, the other Mickey spoke.

“You go around punching everyone you see? Jesus.” His hand pressed against the red mark on his cheek.

Mickey looked at the ground. “Uh yeah, usually.” 

“Fuck…” 

Mickey looked up to see Clay help the other man to his feet again. Other-Mickey stood and spoke, “I haven't punched someone since before high school graduation.” 

Ian and Mickey shared looks of confusion. 

Ian spoke. “You graduated high school?”

“Psh. Obviously.” The other Mickey snorted. When neither of the other men said anything he asked, directed at Mickey. “Didn’t you?”

“Fuck no. None of us did. Hard to in the house of Terry's drugs and guns and horrors.” 

“Terry?” Both Clay and Other-Mickey asked.

“You're Mickey Milkovich right?” Mickey raised his brows.

“Yes.”

“Then you know… Terry... world’s most abusive father, decades in the running.” 

Mickey saw the other two men exchange meaningful looks. His head was so fucking confused looking at them. Like a mirror that’s sole purpose was to fuck with him. 

Other-Mickey spoke quietly. “But my dad died when I was seven years old.” 

Mickey’s mouth fell open. His brain was racing. _What the fuck?_ What did this mean? How could they be like the same person but he not have Terry in his life? He felt Ian's hand squeeze his shoulder again. 

______________

The four men were sitting in the corner of the roof, leaning against the bare walls. There was a fair amount of space between the couples but each pair was basically glued together. 

Mickey had silently passed out a beer to everyone except Ian. Even in this situation, or especially because of the situation, drinking would not be a good idea right now. They sat quietly, fingers fidgeting on cans, all lost in their own thoughts. 

Mickey tried to focus on the feeling of Ian's hand absently rubbing over his knee. It was grounding him. His thoughts wanted to fucking burst out of his head. There was too much to think about but not enough information to understand a single fucking thing. His eyes kept getting pulled towards the two men who had somehow _fallen out of a ball of light_. But it was too weird, so he kept staring a hole through the dirty concrete floor between his shoes. 

Someone cleared their throat. 

Mickey looked up and saw Clay shifting uncomfortably.

“Um guys. I think we need some answers.”

“Yeah no shit.” Ian and Mickey said at almost the same time. 

“Yeah yeah.” Clay continued. “So how about we talk about what we saw right before we saw… each other.”

Ian replied first. “Everything was normal up here. Then that… blue light started. It grew and grew. It was so fucking bright. And then it was gone but you were… here.”

Clay ran a hand through the long hair on top of his head. “Shit. That's basically what happened to us. We were here on the roof and then sparks. The light was on the ground and it grew and we… basically tripped into it.”

“It was on the wall for us.” Ian replied.

“So…” Other-Mickey said quietly. “So, are we thinking, like, alternate universe shit.”

“What?” Mickey snapped. “Like Terminator shit?”

“Well no time travel cause we look… the same age… but yeah. We are from different dimensions. Maybe. I guess.” Other-Mickey trailed off. 

“But that's not… real.” Ian's voice is full of uncertainty. 

“Yeah, I thought so too. Until now.” Other-Mickey states. 

They all make awkward eye contact one after another. Letting the insane idea sink into their new reality.

_______________

“So… you didn’t grow up with Terry?” Mickey asks quietly, not looking directly at the person with his face. 

They were slowly engaging in conversation, pulling information from each other. Between awkward silences full of bewilderment and contemplation, they were uncovering their vast differences. 

“No.” Other-Mickey says. “He died. Drive by shooting. Thank fuck.” He paused. “Why didn’t you graduate? Didn’t Mom help you out with school and stuff?”

Mickey glanced at Ian who gave him a small sad smile. “No… Mom disappeared when I was young.” 

“Disappeared?” Other-Mickey’s voice was loud.

“Um... well, she just wasn't there one day. And Terry wouldn't answer any of our questions…” Mickey paused and saw the look of understanding pass over Other-Mickey’s face. It was still hard to vocalize. “We… all think he did something to her. But… we don’t really know.” 

“That fucking piece of filth.” 

Other-Mickey's hands were clenched tight. Clay wrapped an arm around him and spoke low comforting words.

Mickey felt Ian's breath come closer as he pressed his forehead to Mickey’s temple quickly. Mickey took strength from him.

“You grew up with Mom?” he asked.

Other-Mickey calmed slightly as he spoke. “Yeah. Single mom, so it was hard… Southside, ya know. But fucking easier than when Dad was alive and hitting us all and shit. She's a manager of a diner. Managed to keep us all fed and clothed… forced us to do good in school so we’d have a way out.” 

“Did you?” Ian asked. “Get out?”

Other-Mickey and Clay looked at each other. The dark haired man answered. “Kinda.”

Clay elaborated. “We both went to school. I’m an ER nurse and Mickey is a carpenter. But we still live in the Southside.”

“Carpenter?” Mickey interrupted. “Like construction?”

“Yeah, but I get to do some of the planning and designing shit too.” Other-Mickey said. “There’s   
guys who work under me.”

“What about you guys?” Clay asked, emptying his beer.

Now it was time for Ian and Mickey to look at each other. Mickey’s chest clenched. He felt like they were fuck-ups compared to these other-dimention guys. And how much did they really want to tell these assholes?

Ian responded. “Um… we’re both working for a delivery service. On parole, so no one’s jumping in line to hire us.”

“Wait.” Other-Mickey said. “Both of you are on parole?”

Ian nodded. Mickey sent the other him a look that threatened more violence if he said the wrong fucking thing.

“What’d you do?” 

“None of your fucking business.” Mickey spat out. “Just cause you fucking look like us doesn’t mean we’re gunna tell you shit.”

“Shit, I was just asking.”

“Well, don’t.” Mickey huffed, defensive mode engaged. All he wanted to do was go home, fall into bed, and wake up to see none of this had actually happened. 

__________________

After talking in bursts and jolts - riding through forests of defensiveness, curiosity, comparisons, self-reflection, and pure confusion - the sun began to set and the temperature dropped slightly. They had all realized that even though they seemed to outwardly be the same people, they had grown up differently and were _definitely not_ the same people. The only thing that seemed to be the exact same was that they had been together (on-and-off) since they were teens. And each couple was married now. 

“So what do we do now?” Clay asked, glancing at the darkening sky.

“I guess we can’t fucking go home.” Other-Mickey said with a snarl. “It won’t be _our_ fucking home will it?”

Ian cleared his throat and Mickey knew immediately he wouldn’t like what came out of his mouth. “You guys should… come to our place.” He caught Mickey’s wide eyes but ignored the obvious NO in them. “I mean, what else are they going to do?”

“Ah, fuck no, Ian.” Mickey waved his hand in the direction of the other two. “We don’t owe them anything. We don’t even fucking know them.”

Ian made that face. _That fucking face_. “But Mick, they have nowhere to go. And we can’t have them walking around the Southside getting robbed, or stabbed, or running into our family or some shit.”

Mickey contemplated it for a minute. What would happen if the other two were left to roam free? Ian was right… stabbing, death… these were possibilities. And Mickey cringed at the idea of another him seeing anyone who knew him. Other-Mickey was not as street smart as him and who knows what he would say or do. There was no way to explain that shit away. He turned his head slowly back to Ian. He still had those pleading puppy eyes. 

“Fine.” Mickey muttered.

Ian beamed. “All right, you twin-looking motherfuckers, let's go.”

“Doppelgangers.”

“What?” Ian asked.

“Doppelgangers, not twins.” Clay was holding up a finger as if giving a lecture. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Mickey asked.

“It's when there are people who look exactly alike but are not related.” Clay motioned between all the men. “So, like us. Doppelgangers.” 

Mickey just stared at this nerdy fool who looked like the love of his life. 

Ian replied. “Ok… I guess.”

All four of them slowly stood up, not hiding their awkward and curious looks. When they were all standing brushing dust off their pants, silence hit again. 

Other-Mickey broke it. “So, how we doing this?”

None of them had jackets or hats to hide their faces. 

Ian rubbed a hand over his face. “I guess you guys can follow us like a block or two back. Just stay in sight. And if there are people in the street… um, just cross the street or hide for a bit. Um… I guess…”

Other-Mickey shrugged. “Kind of a shit plan but, whatever.”

Clay said, “No other option really.” He paused. “Wait, our phones.”

Clay and Other-Mickey’s hands immediately dove into their pockets. They pulled out their phones. Mickey and Ian watched with anticipation. But quickly the other two faces fell. Other-Mickey smacked his phone with his palm. Clay pressed the power button over and over. 

“Shit.” Other-Mickey yelled and raised the phone over his head. 

Clay caught his arm before he could throw it. “Mickey, no. We might need them. Or at least when we get back home.”

That sentence hung in the air, as if it was a solid thing now sitting in front of them. Clay froze as if he didn’t realize what he had said a second before. _Get back home._ Was it possible? They didnt know shit about shit so…

Slowly the two newcomers pocketed their phones. 

“Let's go if we're gunna go.” Mickey huffed. 

Him and Ian led the way to the bottom floor of the empty building. Then into the street. It was a fifteen minute walk home and Mickey knew he'd be stressed to hell the whole time. 

_________________

Somehow the walk to Ian and Mickey's place was uneventful. Ian and Mickey were pretty quiet, focusing on trying to act natural and not glance behind at their followers every second. And chain smoking. They were puffing the entire walk. There was hardly anyone outside on the roads, luckily, so there were few pulse raising encounters. 

Ian entered the house behind Mickey and they stood back waiting for the other men. There were footsteps on the front steps. Then Clay and Other-Mickey walked in cautiously. Ian shut the door and turned the lock, something they rarely did. And then more silence. 

This time it was Mickey who broke it. “I'm fucking starving so how about we eat cold pizza.” 

He led the way into the kitchen and pulled out an almost full box from last night. There were muttered thanks. They were all hungry and ate quietly standing around the kitchen. 

When Mickey finished his second piece, he couldn't stand the weirdness anymore. He turned to the fridge, grabbed two beers, and without offering any to anyone else, walked towards the hallway. 

He paused. “I'm pretty fucking done with today. So…”

He raised one beer in a mock cheers and clumped his way up to his and Ian's bedroom. He didn’t wait for Ian, he just placed the beers on the dresser, hurriedly used the bathroom, and sat on the bed. He opened the beer, chugged half of it, then took out a cigarette. Lip had a no smoking inside rule and he normally followed it. But this wasn't normal. Not at fucking all. 

Mickey sat there drinking, smoking, and chewing his lip. His mind was racing but just kept coming back to one thing. _The fuck?!_

There were sounds coming up the stairs. Mickey waited while he was sure Ian was playing host and showing their doppel-gangbang-whatevers to the spare room. They had managed to snag two double beds from an estate sale a few months ago so they actually had a real bed and a second bedroom. Lucky for those other dudes.

Mickey waited until he heard the toilet flush, staring at the door. Then Ian opened the door before quickly shutting it behind him. The redhead leaned back against it staring at the ceiling. 

“What the fuck, Mick?” 

“What the ACTUAL fuck, Ian?”

They shared a small smile. Ian came to the bed. “Can we just pass out? Please, my brain can’t handle this.”

“Take your meds?” Mickey asked quietly. 

Ian nodded and placed his head on Mickey’s shoulder. 

“You think we’ll wake up and they'll be gone?” Mickey asked as he handed his cig to Ian. 

“Hope so. But doubt it.” Ian took a large drag and exhaled slowly. “We can fucking touch them. They are real, whether we like it or not.”

Mickey rubbed his temples. “I'm done. I need sleep and not fucking think for a while.” 

“Mmm same.” Ian finished the cigarette. He leaned over to the cup Mickey had made into an ashtray. Then they both wriggled out of their shorts and shirts. Without discussing it, they left their boxers on, feeling vulnerable with the other basically-strangers down the hall. 

They settled under the thin sheet, facing each other in the warm summer air. 

Ian reached out to cup Mickey’s cheek. 

“I love you Mick.”

Mickey nuzzled into Ian's touch, needing the familiarity. “Love you.” 

Ian leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Mickey’s lips. Mickey gave a strained smile. He gave Ian another chaste peck then turned his body around. He pressed his back against Ian's warm chest and took a deep breath. Ian immediately wrapped around him, understanding. They needed some comfort, some body heat, something just _them_. 

Mickey was appreciative that Ian didn’t try to talk. He probably wanted to but knew Mickey needed this. The quiet and comfort. 

Mickey thought it would be hard to fall asleep with all the craziness bouncing around his brain, but it only took a few minutes for him to float into blissful emptiness.


	3. The visit

Ian slowly swirled to wakefulness. His body felt hot and relaxed. He pulled Mickey closer to his front, making sure his erection pressed firmly against him. They both had the day off, so long morning sex was called for, as per usual. 

The redhead placed wet kisses along his lover's shoulder and neck until he squirmed with wakefulness. 

“Morning, Mick.” Ian thrust his hips tighter against Mickey's plump ass.

“Mmmm.” Mickey hummed and reached back to grip Ian's hip.

Ian shifted back and forth, savoring the friction against mickeys boxers. They hadn't had sex yesterday and he was horny. 

They hadn’t had sex last night.

Because….

_Oh shit._

Ian bolted into a sitting position and stared at their closed door. He patted Mickey's shoulder.

“Mick. Mick. Mick. Do you think…. Fuck… what happened yesterday…”

“Oh no.” Mickey groaned. He buried his head under the pillow. 

“Should we check?” Ian asked, wanting to do the opposite.

Mickey’s muffled voice, “Can we not… for a bit. Can we just be us, in our bed. And not, deal with that shit yet.”

Ian lay back down. “Yes. Don’t think about it.” He reached around to rub Mickey's morning wood. “Let's just...be us.”

“Stop talking, Gallagher.” Mickey grumbled as his head reappeared from under the pillow. 

“Yes sir.” Ian smiled, pushing the crazy _what ifs_ out of his head. Trying to dive into the sensations of his husband in front of him. 

The two men quickly pushed their boxers off. Ian's dick nudged between perfect, smooth cheeks as he slowly stroked Mickey. He twisted and grabbed the lube from their bedside table. He didn’t waste time prepping Mickey, who gave quiet moans and pushed back eagerly. 

“Ready, Mick?”

“Get on me.” Mickey said. “And Ian?”

Ian paused. “What Mick?”

“No talking please. I need to not think a bit longer.” 

Mickey sounded so vulnerable and sincere, it made Ian's heart ache. The thoughts of _others and light and doppelgangers_ tried to push into his mind, and he quickly shut them out. Mickey. Focus on Mickey. Take care of him. 

So he didn't say anything and gently lined himself up. He pushed forward, slowly breaching Mickey's tight ring. Both men let out deep sighs. Ian didn't stop until his pelvis was fully pressed against Mickey.

Then they moved. Ian thrusting back and forth at a slow pace. Mickey gripped Ian's hip tightly and tilted his hips back to meet Ian's every movement. It was leisurely and intimate.

Everytime Ian felt tickles of doubt and mild panic about _them_ he shoved them away. Focusing on his connection to Mick, how they were in a good place right now, how they loved each other. He was sure Mickey was feeling the same way. _Ignore the crazy. Focus on us._

They moved together, completely connected, for countless minutes. Their pleasure building steadily as more and more moans and sighs escaped. 

Ian squirted some lube on his palm as he attempted to keep his hips moving. There was a tingle starting in his spine. He reached around to grip Mickey's straining cock with his slick hand. Mickey let out a gasp and started thrusting his own hips forward. Ian fought the desire to talk Mickey up to their orgasms. He settled for kissing and nipping Mickey's shoulder and letting out whines of pleasure. Ian sped up his hips and hand as Mickey began to clench around him.

The build up was gentle but intense. Within a minute both men were panting. Then Mickey let out a deep groan and Ian felt his hand get even more slick. He fell over the edge right after Mickey, biting into the shoulder in front of him. 

Once they stopped moving, they stayed connected, laying in their cocoon of sweat and lube and cum. Trying to stay there a bit longer. 

But, they couldn't deny reality any longer. Ian could feel Mickey start to fidget. His own thoughts bouncing around his confusing memories from the day before. Ian slipped his softened dick out of Mickey with reluctance.

“Mick.” He heard a grunt in response. “We should clean up and go get ready for whatever the fuck is gunna happen today.”

“Ugh. No.” 

Ian kissed the other man's cheek. “Yes.”

He got up and found a clean cloth to wipe himself down. Then he threw it on Mickey's hip. The black haired man gave an aggravated sound, but did sit up to clean himself. 

Ian stood by the bed, staring at the floor. _What were they going to do?_

Mickey stood up and pulled on some clothes he found on the floor, all while grumbling incoherently to himself. It made Ian smile, this was something he enjoyed. His husband's grumpiness. Ian pulled on some semi clean clothes as well. Then they both stopped and stared at the door like there was a hungry lion behind it.

Ian looked at Mickey.

“Oh. fuck it.” Mickey yanked the door open and stomped to the bathroom. Ian waited a moment, waiting until the toilet flushed. Then he mentally slapped himself and followed into the bathroom. Ian silently took his pills and did his business.

The two men went downstairs, glancing uncertainly at the closed, silent door of the spare room as they passed. The kitchen still had the open but empty pizza box on the counter. They made meaningful eye contact. Evidence that what they thought happened… actually happened. 

Ian took a deep breath and went to put on a very large, very strong pot of coffee. He heard Mickey open and close the fridge and clatter some pans around.

“Mick.” Ian said leaning back against the counter. “What… are we going to do?”

“Figure out how to get rid of them.” Mickey didn’t even look up from the pan he was now heating up. 

“We can’t just kick them out.” Ian hissed quietly, glancing at the stairs.

“No, we're going to figure out how to send them back to wherever the fuck they came from. Then we don’t have to worry about it. Ever again.” 

Ian's mouth opened. “But… how the fuck do we do that?”

Mickey finally turned to face him. “I don't fucking know. But that dude who looks like you seems like a total geek and Lip can help.”

“You want to tell Lip?”

“Fuck no. But we can get him to do the research for us and tell us what to do.”

“How?”

“I'll figure out a way. I'm sure we can bribe that dopey eyed fucker. Baby shit for Freddy or something.” 

Ian couldn't help chuckling. “The hustle never leaves a Milkovich, huh?”

“You ever doubt it, Gallagher?” 

They smiled at each other before moving around the kitchen. Mickey on the eggs, hesitating before doubling the amount they usually make. Ian grabbed some bread and butter and moved over to the toaster. There was a cloud of anticipation in the room, awaiting the inevitable sounds from upstairs. 

And before the eggs were done scrambling, it happened. Two sets of feet came down the stairs. Ian and Mickey moved closer together. 

Then Clay and Other-Mickey entered the room. 

“Morning.” Ian blurted out, voice almost cracking. 

“Um yeah. Morning.” Clay replied. “Thanks for the bed.”

Ian nodded. 

Mickey turned back to the eggs and said gruffly. “Grab a plate if you want food.” 

Ian opened the cupboard and took out four plates. Then he got four mugs. He took one of each and went to get two pieces of buttered toast. Then coffee. Then he moved out of the way.

“So how do you two feel?” He asked.

“Physically, same as ever.” Other-Mickey said as he grabbed a plate. “Mentally, fucked up beyond all fucking repair.”

Mickey turned off the stove with a clank. “Eggs. Hot sauce and milk in the fridge.” 

Ian watched his husband fill his plate without making eye contact with either of the other men. Once everyone had eggs and toast and coffee Mickey silently walked to the living room. 

Ian glanced at the other two. “We, um, don't have a table. Living room’s in here.” He led the way to their main living area.

He sat down beside Mickey on the couch and watched Clay and Other-Mickey sit in the chairs across from them. Then they all ate without saying anything. But their thoughts were basically buzzing around the room like bees. 

Mickey was the first to finish. “Need a smoke.” He muttered and Ian saw him drop his empty dishes in the sink on his way out the back door. 

“Um, I'm going to smoke too.” Ian said. “Do you…?” He gestured vaguely at the other two men.

“No.” Clay replied. “Not anymore.” 

Other-Mickey grumbled. “Might have to fucking start again with all this insanity.”

Ian smiled, being reminded of his own Mickey. “Ok, I'm gunna…” Ian indicated the door. He left his plate and fork in the kitchen and shoved the last of his toast in his mouth on his way out. He looked back once at the two men still eating in the living room before joining Mickey on the back deck. It was really just a slab of cement, all the wood having been rotten and broken when Lip first moved in. He'd spent a few days removing it all and they had plans to put in railings and stairs and maybe even a roof this summer. 

Mickey was standing at the edge of the cement, arms crossed, cigarette in hand. Ian joined him, grabbing his own and the lighter. He took a large inhale, letting the nicotine slightly relax him. 

“So…” he sighed. “Those two don’t smoke.”

“They really aren't like… us. Are they?” Mickey took a big puff. “Goody two shoes motherfuckers.” 

Ian snorted. “Yeah, we're basically scum.”

Mickey looked at him and moved closer. Their bare shoulders touched. They finished their smokes in silence. 

“So what do I call the other… um, Mickey.” Mickey asked.

“I dunno. Ask him.” 

Mickey gave a grunt and started inside. They walked into the kitchen. Ian's eyes widened at the sight. Clay and Other-Mickey were at the sink cleaning the breakfast dishes. 

“You, uh, didn’t have to do that.” He stuttered.

“Not a problem.” Clay replied, stacking the final plate into the rack. 

Mickey cleared his throat. “So… what should I call you?” 

Other-Mickey pointed to himself questioningly. 

“Yeah you.” Mickey replied bluntly. 

“Uh, Mickey?” Other-Mickeys reply was more of a question.

“Yeah, but I’m Mickey too. At least Clay has a different gay-ass name.” 

“Hey.” Clay said with a frown.

Mickey waved it off. “So…” he stared at the other man who looked just like him.

“Um, Ian called you Mick?” Other-Mickey asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, no one calls me Mick… except mom. Not even Clay does.” Other-Mickey looked at all of them. “So I can be Mickey, you can be Mick?”

“Ok.” Mick replied. “Fine. Weird as fuck, but fine.” 

“Fine.” Mickey repeated. 

Ian glanced between the two identical men. “Ok, what now.” 

______________

Ian and Mick walked through the grocery store. All four men had spent time discussing a plan to get Clay and Mickey back home. Mick had been right, Clay was a total nerd and actually knew a lot about theoretical physics and shit. Ian had pulled out their laptop so Clay could spend some time researching while they were out shopping. The two men had promised not to venture out of the house or backyard but Ian was still feeling nervous about all the crazy bad shit that could happen if they were left alone. But there wasn’t any other choice. Ian and Mick had work the next few days.

“What was that weird healthy shit Clay wanted?” Mick was grumpy but had begrudgingly agreed to buy some groceries for their houseguests. 

Ian opened his phone to the list. “Temp- eh? I have no idea what the fuck that is.”

Mick's hand waved. “That redhead fucker can deal without it. What else do we need to get?” 

“Asparagus, agave nectar, oats, broccoli, and, um, grapefruit.” Ian read off the list.

Mickey rolled his eyes hard. “Do those fuckers think it’s fucking Thanksgiving dinner every day around here?”

“Whatever. If we get all this food maybe they'll cook for us. So we can eat something more than pasta and burgers.” 

“They better fucking cook, cause their cash ain't going very far.” 

Mick had asked, shamelessly, if Clay and Mickey had any money to help buy groceries. They doubted their cards would work here, and they only had a bit over $40 cash between them. Mickey had muttered something about not expecting to fall into another dimension when Mick snorted as they passed over the cash. 

Ian walked a little closer to Mick. “Do you think they'll be able to, like, leave the house or something at some point.”

“I dunno man. But we cant risk them running into another Gallagher or a fucking Milkovich for god’s sake.” 

“Yeah, you're right.” Ian ran a hand over his mouth. It seemed like an impossible task; figuring out how to send Clay and Mickey back, let alone keeping them hidden until then. 

__________________

Clay ran a hand over his mouth in frustration. How was he expected to find a way to get to another dimension if goddamn scientists haven't even done that yet. Ian had said Lip could help, which made sense because even in Clay's world Lip was an academic whizz.

He looked over to Mickey who was finishing a set of pushups next to the couch. His husband had been complaining about having nothing to do and being useless for the last half hour. Clay tried to make him feel better, but with one computer and no phones, Mickey couldn't help with research or anything. 

Clay stood up and gave a stretch. “I need a break. God damn.” 

Mickey stood up and gave his buff arms a shake. “My turn on the computer then.”

“Fine, go for it.” 

“K, I gotta piss then I'll search for… wormhole shit.”

“Not wormholes.” Clay said. “We're trying to go home not somewhere else in _this_ dimension.” 

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He headed upstairs to the larger bathroom. 

Clay went to get a glass of water. It was weird being in this house as guests? Pseudo guests? Should they make themselves at home? They were stuck here for now right, so he guessed so.

Clay heard a bang from the front door. Probably Ian and Mick needing help with groceries. He walked over and opened the door. Then his mouth fell open, agape.

Lip.

It was his brother Lip. But not _his_ brother, Lip.

Something rushed through Clay. A feeling of overwhelming homesickness mixed with happiness at seeing a familiar, loved face washed over him. Before he could help it he fell onto Lip with a bear hug. He blinked away the prickles in his eyes and squeezed the back of the man who looked just like his brother. 

Lip gave a chuckle and patted him on the back. “Whoa, Ian. What's up man?”

Clay quickly pulled away, regaining some clarity. He sniffed. “Sorry, just needed a hug today, ya know.” 

“I guess.” Lip made to walk inside the house.

Clay blocked him with his body. Lip glared at him. “Um, I'm just leaving. I'm, uh … meeting Mick at the grocery store… yeah.” He glanced behind him, hoping to hell and back that Mickey wouldn't come down the stairs. Clay decided to speak a bit louder to hopefully give him a warning.

“Oh ok.” Lip said slowly. “Was gunna go over some plans for the back deck with you.” 

“Can we do it later?” Clay said quickly then added. “Please. I'm not feeling too good today.”

“Taking your pills, right?” Lip asked.

Clay's brows furrowed and he blurted out, “What pills?”

Lips head cocked and his expression changed. “Ian?” 

Clay quickly tried to say something to seem normal. “Just kidding Lip. Sorry… like I said… tired today. Pills are… fine…”

“You talking to Mick about everything?” Lips eyes were boring into Clay, making him feel like he was being read like an open book. 

“Yeah, yeah, we're good.” Clay ran a hand through his hair. “We're gunna relax today. After shopping, ya know.” 

Lip eyed him for a few seconds. Clay's heart was racing and he hoped his face looked semi normal. 

“You do something different with your hair?” Lip asked casually. 

“Oh yeah, just today.” Clay managed to get the sentence out. His hair was noticeably longer than Ian's. Shit. He needed Lip to leave before he suspected something was really off. “I, uh, gotta take a shit. Before I leave. So, I'll see ya later. Tomorow we’ll talk?”

“Alright.” Lips voice was even but his eyes were still staring holes in Clay's face. “I'll come by tomorrow.” He turned to go, but looked over his shoulder. “Take care of yourself Ian. You've been even for so long. Let Mick look after you ok.”

“Ok.” Clay replied quietly. “Bye.”

He felt bad, but he basically slammed the door on Lip. He leaned his forehead against it, shut his eyes, and took a few deep breaths. _Holy fuck._ He wasn't expecting that roller coaster of emotions. Shit. 

He heard a stage whisper. “Clay. Clay. Is he gone?”

The redhead turned and walked towards the staircase. “Yeah Mickey, you're good.”

Mickey turned the corner of the stairs. His eyes were wide. “Holy shit, that was Lip.” 

“Yeah. I know.” Clay whispered. “Oh no, did I ruin everything?” 

Mickey pulled him into a hug. “Hey, Clay, it's fine. That was some unexpected shit. I heard his voice just in time to not walk right into view. What happened?” 

Clay pulled back so he could look at Mickey. “He wanted to talk about the deck or something. And I… definitely did not keep my cool.” 

“What happened?” Mickey looked even more concerned.

“I hugged him and… I think I said something wrong. He looked weirded out.” 

“I'm sure it's ok. It's not like he'll suspect you aren't actually Ian.” Mickey leaned in for a small kiss. “We can tell Ian and he'll clear it up.” 

“Ok. Ok.” Clay took a few deep breaths then leaned down to kiss Mickey again. They wrapped their arms around each other sharing sweet but lingering kisses. Finding strength in each other in this unfamiliar world. 

Suddenly there was a bang on the front door and it swung open. 

Clay and Mickey jumped apart.

_________________

Ian followed Mick into their house, two grocery bags in each hand. Their doppelgangers were standing at arms length, staring at them with deer in the headlights eyes.

Mick gave a snort. “Don’t care if you were kissing. Not like it's anything we haven't seen before. But let’s try to keep PDA to a minimum, ok.” 

Ian smirked at the two men and quickly went to the kitchen to empty his hands. 

“We thought…” Clay started. Ian turned back to him. He still looked shocked. “We thought you were Lip again.”

Ian felt his stomach clench. “AGAIN?” He yelped. 

“What the fuck happened?” Mick stepped up beside him. 

Clay's voice was a bit shaky. “I'm sorry. I thought you guys needed help with groceries. But it was Lip at the door.”

“Oh shit.” Ian reached up and rubbed the top of his head in worry. 

Clay looked at the ground. “I got him to leave. It was so weird. I, uh, I hugged him… I couldn't help it.” 

Ian saw Mickey grab Clay's hand and realized how anxious the other redhead looked. Ian felt some of his instinctual anger seep away. He couldn't blame Clay for what happened. Whatever did happen. 

He made sure his voice was calm. “What else happened?” 

“He… he wanted to talk about the deck?” Clay said. “I told him I had to go meet Mick at the store. To come back tomorrow.” 

“Ok.” Ian lowered his arm. “That doesn't seem so bad. We didn’t see him on the sidewalk and, I mean, Lip’s smart but still kinda dumb.” 

Mick gave a snort of agreement. 

“Um, one other thing.” Clay said quietly. 

“What?” Mick snapped. Ian put a hand on his elbow to try to get him to shut up. 

“He asked about pills.” Clay took a breath. “And I kinda froze.” 

Ian's eyes widened. He hadn't even thought about what would happen to Clay without his meds. A speeding train of thoughts rushed at him… _there was no way they could share_ and ian couldn't get more _but he couldn't risk running out_ and oh god if they had to deal with a _depressed Clay or a manic Clay_ or Ian what if _he_ went off the rails with everything and…

Mick's voice broke his spiraling. “Oh shit Clay. Your meds. What are you gunna do?” 

Clay and Mickey looked at each other, sharing some sort of private thought. When Clay made eye contact with Ian, Ian felt his breath hitch.

“I don't know what pills y'all are talking about.” 

__________________

Ian sat on the side of the bed with his head in his hands. He felt Mick sit down next to him. But he didn’t move. 

He had just been forced to explain that he was bipolar. He had just exposed his dark secret and biggest worry to someone who looked just like him. But wasn't him. _Because he wasn't mentally ill._ He had a normal brain. _He was normal._ No wonder Clay was smart and successful. Had an actual career. And no wonder Ian was fresh out of jail, a felon, with no future prospects. All his hopes and dreams crushed by his fucking disease.

Ian didn’t want to feel jealous, but he sure as fuck did. It wasn't fair that he was stuck with this lifelong shitshow when Clay was… normal.

Mick's arm wrapped around his shoulders. His voice was low and comforting. “Ian. Talk to me.” 

Ian finally raised his head but he didn't look at Mick. “He's not bipolar, Mick.”

“I know. This is an even more fucked up situation than this morning.” Mick pressed his forehead to Ian's shoulder. 

“But Mick.” Ian said. “Clay is _normal._ ” 

“Uhh.” Mick was cut off before he could make an actual word. 

“Why the _fuck_ does he get to be normal and I'm fucking crazy.” Ian's voice was loud and full of spite. 

Mick recoiled immediately. Ian knew his face must be red and masked with ugly emotions like anger and jealousy. But he couldn't control it. _It wasn't fair._

“Ian -”

“No Mick.” Ian cut him off. “It's not fucking ok or fine. It's not fucking fair. I've lost my mind how many fucking times now, while he's just skating by life like… fuck.”

“Ian.”

“No Mick.” Ian repeated not knowing how to deal with these intense emotions and flashbacks to all the insanity he had brought to their lives. The clubs, the drugs, the sex, the depression, then Yev, _oh Yev_ , then the hospital, losing Mick, the pain he caused his family, and Mick, _Mick_ ….

Ian's eyes began to leak in a mixture of anger and guilt and confusion. He felt Mick's arms reach around him. He pushed them off with some shakey gasps. But Mick was strong and he managed to wrap Ian's squirming body in a tight hug. 

Ian gritted his teeth and shook his head. “Mick get off me.” But he didn't.

Surrounded by his husband, Ian slowly calmed down. His tears started flowing freely and some of the tension leaked out of him. He didn’t feel as angry anymore, he felt… _betrayed._ Betrayed by his own brain. Betrayed that his other dimension twin wasn't fucked up like him. He hugged Mick tightly. It wasn't fucking fair. 

Minutes passed with Ian breathing and slowly managing his sobs. Mick kept holding him tightly, not letting him feel alone. Not giving him the chance to run or hide. Ian melted into those strong arms, finally realizing he was feeling deep love and appreciation bubble up under all his negativity.

Ian wiped hand over his cheeks, hand coming away wet. 

Mickey spoke softly into his neck. “I love you Ian. I have always loved you.”

Ian gave a small whimper.

“No matter what we’ve done… or will do… we are together. Right?”

Ian nodded and sniffled, unwilling to speak yet. 

Mick leaned back so he could look into Ian’s red eyes. “And you know what this means?” Ian just stared back. Mick wiped his thumb over Ian’s tear stained jaw. “It means you are a hell of a lot stronger than that other ginger down there. You’ve been through so much, and you know what? You’re still fucking here.” 

Ian stared at the small smile on Mick’s lips and felt his shoulders slump. He didn’t deserve this man. He really didn’t. Ian didn’t know what to say so he just leaned in to press his lips against Mick’s. The black haired man’s hand came to gently cradle the back of Ian’s head as their closed lips brushed together. When Ian pulled away and licked his lower lip, he tasted the salty tears. 

Mick was looking at him with love and not an ounce of judgement. Ian felt his brain slow down back to something close to normal. He knew he’d have to take it easy the next few days if he was going to avoid some sort of episode. The stress from the last 24 hours alone…

His husband seemed to read his mind. “Let’s call in sick tomorrow. We all need to figure shit out. You can relax and go on a run or whatever you want.”

Ian felt his eyes start to fill again. He gave a weak gasp. “I hate feeling helpless, Mick. I fucking hate it.”

“I know, baby. I know.”

___________________

When Ian finally felt ready to face the unbelievable reality downstairs, they plodded downstairs. Ian looked to the living room and saw two sets of familiar eyes on him. He lifted his chin slightly and turned to the kitchen. Filling and draining a glass of water helped steady him. 

When he turned around, Clay was standing next to Mick, arms awkwardly crossed over his stomach. 

“Ian, can I talk… are you ok to talk?”

Ian caught Mick’s eye. His dark brows were raised in question. Ian put on a brave face and nodded to him. Mick gave Clay an obvious glare and retreated to the living room. Then it was just them. Almost identical, but, as they now knew, completely different.

Clay took a few steps forward but left lots of space between them. “I’m so sorry it came up like that. I would never have… prodded or asked normally. It’s none of my business.”

Ian swallowed heavily. “I know. And I’m sorry I couldn’t handle it. I just… expected that you would, uh… be the same as me. It’s a lot.”

“Oh yeah, it’s more than a lot.” Clay gave a huff. “I still can’t really believe it. Even though I know this is happening.”

“Yeah.”

Clay’s voice was gentle. “I did grow up with Monica, so… I kind of get how hard it must have been for you. I mean, I have no idea… but I have experience with her at least.”

Ian looked into his open green eyes. Clay had told him that his version of Monica also had bipolar. He decided to be honest and blunt. “I don’t really know how I feel about this all right now.”

“I get that.” Clay glanced at the ground. “And I mean, we can share or not share whatever we want. No pressure, ya know.”

“Um… yeah. Thanks.” Ian glanced around the kitchen awkwardly. He realized this was the first time he was alone with his doppelganger. _Weird._ But it also, surprisingly, had an air of comfort and familiarity. And he didn’t feel any of his previous anger towards Clay. He knew it wasn’t either of their choice to end up with the brain they did. Ian still felt pretty shitty after his meltdown and mental dip into all his worst memories. But he wasn’t mad. 

Clay muttered. “This is all so fucking weird.”

Ian gave a dark chuckle. “I think we’ll be saying that till you get back home.”

They gave each other small smiles before moving towards the living room, keeping a few feet of space between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably break most chapters into different POVs. I want to explore everyone's mind a bit. I'll try to make it obvious who is being focused on in each part of each chapter.


	4. The visit II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder on names throughout:
> 
> Our universe: Ian and Mick  
> Parallel universe: Clay and Mickey

Mick glanced over his shoulder as he walked to the living room. Clay stepped forward and Mick was no longer able to see Ian. He hoped Clay was smart and didn't fucking push it. He needed Ian to be ok. And he had no hesitations about pounding that red haired nerd if he did anything to fuck their lives up. Even more, that is.

Mick flopped onto the couch and ran both hands through his hair. Then he heard a small cough. _Oh shit._ Now Mick had to deal with this other fucking lookalike dick. 

His eyes rose until he could see Mickey sitting in an armchair. At least he looked awkward, making Mick feel better after the disaster of a day so far.

“Um, how is Ian?” Mickey asked.

“How the fuck do you think he is?” Mick snapped, immediately feeling a slight twinge of regret as Mickey’s body language recoiled. Mick cleared his throat and looked at his lap. “He's strong. He'll be ok.” 

“Yeah.” Mickey said, leaving it at that. 

The two men sat there, and Mick couldn't help his eyes from wandering to the other dark haired man. The other him. It was too weird sitting in silence so he grabbed the remote and turned their old TV on to some old Law and Order episode. He needed background noise to help him fight the desire to burst into the kitchen and protect Ian from whatever potentially triggering thing could happen. 

And it only took a few seconds for Mickey to break his attempted distraction. 

“Thanks for wanting to help us.” Mickey’s eyes were on the ceiling. “This is fucked and we… ya know, appreciate the help.” 

Mick grunted. “Don’t thank us til we find a way to send you home.” 

“Oh fuck, please do.” Mickey pressed his hand against his nose in an all too familiar gesture. 

“We'll try.” Mick replied trying to keep his eyes off Mickey. 

“But really.” Mickey’s voice was low. “You're being nice… not beating us up and dumping us or… some shit.” 

“Hmf. Let's see how long that lasts.” 

Mick heard the other man give a cough that sounded suspiciously like the word _dick_. He narrowed his eyes but before he could say anything, he heard feet approaching. His head whipped around to see the two redheads walking towards them. Mick didn’t even notice Clay give Mickey a small smile. All he saw was Ian. And lucky for Clay's face, Ian didn’t look any more distressed than he did earlier. 

Ian sat down next to Mick and they clasped hands. Mick saw his husband give a few deep breaths.

“So what now?” It was Mickey. _Of course._ Mickey thought to himself.

Mick shot him a glare. “Well if you two dipshits can avoid announcing your prescence to the whole fucking neighborhood… we do all the smart book shit and get you home.” 

“Mm, good plan.” Mickey glared back. “You gunna help with any of this book shit?”

“I got a phone don't I?” Mick leaned forward. 

Clay put his hand out, like an attempt to create a barrier between the two hot headed Milkoviches. “Guys, guys. Let's just try to get organized and figure out what needs to be done.”

Mick gave a huffed, glaring at his doppelganger. “Whatever.” 

Ian spoke, voice still quiet and full of his deep emotions. “Mick and I have to work in two days. We need the money, so…”

“So… we'll stay inside while you're at work I guess.” Clay shrugged.

Mick spoke. “And what if a Gallagher or Milkovich stops by unannounced again? Will you handle it as fucking great as you did today?”

Clay's face fell. “Hey, it was unexpected. I was…”

Mickey broke in now, obviously defending his partner. “None of that was Clay's fucking fault. This is all fucked up, and seeing a brother who isn’t actually yours is really fucked up.”

“I understand and we don’t blame you.” Ian said and shoved at Mick's shoulder until he grunted and nodded. 

There was quiet, all four men feeling the swirl of anxiousness.

It was Ian who sat forward. “Ok let's plan something. I need to keep my mind distracted.”

Everyone gave him an understanding look. Mick bumped their shoulders together lightly. Then they all set up to work.

_____________________

“Oh, no no no no.” Clay’s hands were raised in front of him protectively. 

“Yes, dude, you gotta.” Mickey said. “We’re not fucking invisible, so next time anyone in this fucking world sees us, we need to look the part.”

Clay ran his hand through the long red hair on the top of his head. He gave a deep sigh. “Fuck.”

Mickey replied. “You know how much I love your hair long, babe… but, it’s happening.”

Mick passed the electric razor over to Mickey. “Here, all the attachments are in the box.” 

“Thanks.” Mickey said as he watched Mick make a quick exit from the crowded bathroom. He turned back to Clay. “Let’s do this.”

The redhead was turning his head slowly side to side in the mirror. He looked like he was trying to memorize his current haircut. Mickey took a moment to also take him in. Clay had always been the hottest guy he knew. Since they played baseball together as kids and Mickey didn’t even really understand what _‘hot’_ was to being horny-ass teenagers experimenting together, to falling deeply in love despite their Southside hardships. Mickey loved being able to grab Clay’s longer hair while they were having sex, but he knew they both had to suck it up. Visually, the two Milkoviches looked almost identical. But the two Gallaghers had a few differences, the hair and the fact that Ian had more muscle mass than Clay. The job of a full-time nurse meant Clay didn’t have as much time to work out as he wanted, but Mickey wouldn’t have any of his bitching. His husband was pretty fucking close to perfect in his mind. 

Their eyes met in the mirror and they both smiled. 

“Guess it’s RIP hair time.” Clay groaned. 

“Yep.” Mickey rummaged around the box to find the correct attachment. He put it all together and plugged it into the wall. He looked up at Clay and smirked mischievously as he turned it on. The _buzzing_ filled the room. “Sound familiar?”

Clay’s face broke into a grin. “Damn… I’m gunna miss our toy box.”

Mickey licked his lips. “Me too, fuck.” Clay’s eyes were roaming his body. “Hey, haircut first… then I’m sure the other two won’t miss us if we go to our room for a bit.” He raised his brows. 

The redhead bit his bottom lip. He looked like he was thinking hard. Then his voice was a whisper. “You don’t think it’s, like… weird or disrespectful or some shit to have sex in their room?”

Mickey’s eyes widened. “Clay, what the fuck? You think we’re gunna be stuck here for who knows how long and not fuck at all?”

“Well no… but-”

“Yeah, no. We are _married fucking adults_. We can bang all we want in our room.”

“But, it’s not technically _our_ room is it?”

“Shut up, baby.” Mickey stepped forward, buzzing clipper in his hand. “It’s happening, so get over yourself.”

Clay gave him a look full of affection and heat that said he wouldn’t have that hard a time getting over it. 

“Now.” Mickey said. “Strip so you don’t get hair all over your clothes.”

“Mmm, good excuse to get me undressed, husband.” Clay kidded as he slid his shirt off. 

“Thought so.” Mickey said as his eyes took in his favorite view as Clay removed his jeans as well “We better hurry this up, I’ve got a half chub already.”

Clay pointed a finger at him. “You better not fuck up my hair because you’re distracted or shit.”

“Calm down, Romeo, it’s just a trim on the top.”

The redhead stood in front of the mirror. Mickey stepped up close, glancing at the buzzing machine in his hand. He really would miss that long hair. Damn. 

As Mickey reached up, Clay stopped him. “Do you need me to kneel down or something, short-stop?”

Mickey’s mouth fell open as he saw the twinkle of glee in his husbands’ eyes. “The fuck you just say, Gallagher?”

“Oh, just a comment on your diminutive stature.”

The black haired man’s head swirled with expletive laden come-backs. He decided to take a slightly higher road. “You realize I have a machine with razor blades _in my hand_? AND the power to decide not to ride your cock as soon as we’re done here?”

Clay’s eyes flickered between the clippers, his lips, his crotch and back again. “Fine, just get it over with.”

“Hold still and maybe, just maybe, you’ll get some ass.” Mickey reached up again, knowing full well they’d be banging no matter what. They needed it after these two shitty days.. 

_________________________

“So, uh,” Ian said, leaning into Mick’s shoulder on the couch. “I was thinking tomorrow we could maybe go on a walk by the lake.”

Mick’s gaze took in every inch of his face before he answered. “That help you feel good, ya think?”

Ian nodded, thinking of what he could do to make sure his mental state didn’t slide to one side or another over the next few days. “Yeah… maybe we can just be us and not worry for a while.”

“Sounds great.” Mick reached up to run his thumb over Ian’s jaw. They simply stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Mick’s face changed. “What are we going to do with those two jokers while we’re gone?”

Ian glanced back towards the staircase. “We’ll just tell them to stay inside, as long as no one sees them, it should be ok. Right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mick took a breath. “You text Lip yet?”

“Oh, shit, no I haven’t.” Ian fumbled for his phone and dislodged it from his front pocket. “What should I say? Should I, like, apologize for being weird? Or would that be suspicious?”

“Hey, Ian.” Mick put his hand on Ian’s wrist. “Just ask him what time he’s coming over tomorrow. That’s it. Be calm. That way we’ll know when we need to hide the other two. Or kick them out. Or whatever’s gunna happen.”

“Ok, ok.” Ian took a few deep breaths through his nose as he typed a message to Lip. He could be calm. He _could_.

Ian: **hey, man.**

Ian: **what time you coming over tomorrow for deck shit?**

The redhead felt Mick’s hand on his arm. He looked over at his favorite face. 

“We’ll manage, Red. We always do.”

_________________________

That night, Mick’s wish came true. Turns out Mickey was a pretty great cook. He mumbled something about having to cook a lot while Clay was in school and doing practicums in hospitals. 

“He’s really great.” Clay endured the glare from his husband. “I’ve never had better ribs than what Mickey makes. Or mac n’ cheese.”

“Mac n’ cheese.” Mick snorted. “I can fucking make that.” Ian shot him a glare. 

“But can you make the sauce from scratch with squash and real cheese?” Clay raised an eyebrow at him.

Mick just shrugged and walked out of the kitchen with his beer. 

Ian shook his head and quietly said. “Just ignore him. He’s pretty much always bitching about something.”

“Don’t I know it.” Clay replied with a pointed look to where Mickey was steaming veggies and cooking pasta.

Ian smirked as his eyes met an identical set with knowing looks. They broke eye contact after a few seconds because the weirdness that was every surrounding them crept back in. Ian looked down at the soda in his hand and cleared his throat. 

“Thanks again for cooking Mickey. Um, let me know if there’s anything you need.”

Before Ian could make his escape from the kitchen he heard Clay call to him. “Hey, Ian.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to make a list of books that might help with our physics research. Can you go to the library tomorrow to see if they have them?”

“The library?” Ian asked hesitantly. He hadn’t set foot in a public library since…. since he could remember. He remembered Fiona taking them by when he was young to pick through the free books the library sometimes had out front. But he couldn’t remember actually going in. And don’t you need a library card? He sure as hell didn’t have one of those.

“Yeah, the public library should have a big section. It’ll be easier if we have some books too, so it’s not just one person at a time on the computer doing research. Ya know.”

Ian studied his hands. Yet again, he felt like his life was an utter disaster compared to these other two men from another world. He took a breath before saying simply. “I don’t have a library card.”

“That’s fine.” Clay said. “You just need a piece of mail with your name and address. You can get one and then immediately check out the books.”

“Uh, I’m not sure how to do that.” Ian said, watching Clay’s earnest face turn to slight confusion. “I don’t even think I’ve been in a library before.”

Clay’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh… ok.” Ian was thankful the other man didn’t say anything more to drag him down even more. But then he said something Ian did not expect at all. “Well, what if me and Mickey go tomorrow when Lip comes by. Then we’ll be out of the way, and I’ll be able to get all the books we need.”

“I… uh, I dunno. Maybe we should all talk about it.” Ian was split between thinking it was a logical, good idea and thinking it was the riskiest thing he’d ever fucking heard. 

Mickey’s gruff voice came from the stove. “You can’t keep us fucking locked up in here.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Ian snapped. “We just need to… figure out the details. Like, I don’t know… make sure it’s all safe.”

“Like we can’t take care of ourselves in the Southside.” Mickey’s voice had a hard edge of anger.

Ian was about to snap back, but Clay held up his hand. “You know it’s not like that, babe. We can’t go out and somehow show all of Chicago that there’s two sets of us running around.”

Mickey grumbled as he turned back to the pots on the stove. 

Clay gave Ian an apologetic look. “Let’s go talk to Mick then.”

The two redheads went to the living room, finding Mick cradling his beer and watching a rerun of Friends. Ian sat next to him and clicked mute on the remote. He could tell by the look Mick gave him that he wasn’t excited for whatever conversation was about to happen. 

Ian took a breath and said quickly. “So, Clay and Mickey were thinking of going to the library tomorrow to get some research books. While Lip is over here.” He held his breath, waiting for his partner’s response. 

Mick’s blue eyes shifted between the two Gallaghers. “Well... As long as they don’t run into any family or coworkers they shouldn’t ruin our fucking lives or anything.”

Ian blinked, surprised by his response. “Um, yeah. If they just go there and back, there’s basically no threat. And it’ll make it easier when Lip’s here in the morning.”

“Sure.” Mick said, taking a gulp of his beer. 

Clay glanced at Ian. “So… I guess that’s that.”

“Guess so.” Ian replied.

“Do you have mail or something with your name on it, Ian? Oh, and I’ll probably have to take your ID too.”

Ian’s stomach clenched slightly at that. Did he trust Clay that much? He thought for a moment and realized they didn’t really have a choice, but also…. Yes, he did trust him. The other Ian Clayton Gallagher… they were the same person after all, no matter how different they were. 

“Ok, I’ll go find that before Mickey finishes dinner.”

“Thanks.” 

_____________________

The next morning, Clay and Mickey had left an hour before Lip said he’d come by. They all wanted to make sure there wasn’t another awkward encounter or, worse, all of them seen at home together. Ian had watched them walk down the street towards the L. He really hoped this didn’t blow up in their faces somehow. He really just needed to focus on himself for the rest of the day. 

Mick called to him from the kitchen. Ian went inside, pulling the door shut behind him. “Yeah?”

“You wanna bring some food or buy some at the lake?”

“Bring some?” Ian grinned as he crowded Mick. “Like a gay-ass pic-nic or something?”

Mick flipped him off. “Fuck off. ‘M just asking here.”

Ian swooped in to kiss him thoroughly. As usual, Mick melted into it. When he pulled back, he said against Mick’s lips. “I’ll have a pic-nic with you anytime, Mr. Gallagher.”

Mick just gave him a half smile before locking their lips again. Ian held his husband tight. He was eternally grateful that Mick was being so understanding and helpful. But thinking back, hadn’t he always been when it came to Ian’s mental health? They might fight _a whole hell of a lot_ , but when it came down to the deep stuff, they were soul mates. And there wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for each other. They kissed and kissed, shoving spit back and forth, and making needy little sounds. Ian had passed out last night and they woke up early this morning to get the doppelgangers prepared for their trip. And their bodies were hungry for each other after the hours apart. 

Ian gripped the back of Mick’s neck and pushed him over to the island in their kitchen. Mick gave a gasp and a grin as he deftly opened a drawer to grab their kitchen lube bottle out. He set it on the counter and turned around to present his sweatpants clad ass to Ian. 

“C’mon then, Mr. Milkovich.”

Ian grinned back. He took care of his own jeans, pushing them hurriedly to his ankles. When he looked back, his husband’s bare ass was leaning over the counter. 

“Shit, Mick.” Ian gripped his growing dick and gave a few strokes as he ogled the amazing ass in front of him. 

The black haired man just shook the bottle of lube at him. Ian chuckled and took it. Once his fingers were coated, he carefully pulled one plump cheek out for better access to his favorite hole. He pressed one finger in smoothly, loving the groan it pulled from Mick. 

At Mick’s insistence, prep was quick. Ian went from one finger to three within a minute. And he knew Mick was getting impatient when he reached back to grab Ian’s thigh. 

“Ready?”

“Always.” came Mick’s gruff reply. 

Ian removed his fingers and gave Mick a sharp slap on the ass. “‘S why I love you.”

He quickly squirted some lube on his straining dick and then nudged at Mick's hole. He pushed in slowly, not stopping until he was flush against him. 

For the second time in as many days, they forgot about their stress and confusion by losing themselves in each other’s bodies. Ian thrust slowly but deeply. It didn’t take long before Mick's fingers were scrambling on the countertop trying to find something to hold on to. Ian reached forward so they could thread their fingers together. Mickey moaned and pressed back so their clothed tops were pressed together as well. 

Ian sped up slightly, keeping himself deep within Mick's heat. 

“I love you.”

Mick grunted. “Fucking love you.”

Ian started losing his control at that declaration. Their fingers tightened together as they moved against and with each other. 

“A little more Ian.” 

So Ian shifted his hips to hit that special spot with each move. He pressed open mouthed kisses to Mick's neck. And a minute later, Ian was hanging on by a thread. He saw Mick’s hand move to touch his own cock. 

And then his mind went blissfully blank for a few dozen thrusts before he came with a deep “Fuck”. He leaned against Mick and felt him finish right after. They both breathed heavily as they came down from their orgasms. 

When Mick shifted underneath him, Ian took the hint and stood up straight. He pulled out gently and moved to lean himself against the counter. Mick stood up next to him.

“Goddamn, Gallagher. Even our quickies are fucking fantastic.” 

“Hell yeah.” Ian breathed out. 

He watched Mick waddle to the sink to get a wet cloth. He wiped his hand on it before tossing it to Ian. Ian wiped himself then leaned to wipe the drops of Mick’s cum off the cabinets. They had actually started cleaning up after themselves now that they were out of prison.

As soon as he straightened up, there was a knock on the door. Ian and Mick looked at each other. Then Ian sprang into action; pulling his boxers and pants up quickly. He checked the time. Lip was forty minutes early. Damn, good think they had sent the other two off early. 

“I'll let him in.” Ian said, voice a little gravelly still. 

“Ima go to the bathroom real quick.” Mick gestured to his ass then pulled his sweats up before adding. “Be normal. He doesn’t know shit.”

Ian nodded. He ran a hand through his hair as he went to the front door. Another loud knock.

“Jesus christ, Lip”. He said opening the door. “We were just-”

“Fucking.” Lip interrupted with a smirk.

Ian stood a little straighter. “Just cleaning up actually. The fucking is over.” 

“Knew it.” Lip walked inside looking around. 

Ian tried to take some normal breaths as he shut the door. “Yeah, well, Mick says we're still on our honeymoon.” 

“I bet you he'll be saying that for the next six months.” 

Ian shrugged, then nodded. “So… the deck?”

“Yeah.” Lip took some papers from his back pocket. “I wanna get on it while it's still summer. It's why I came by yesterday.”

“Yeah.” Ian came over to look at the papers.

“Speaking of…” Lip said and Ian froze. “You doing ok today?”

“Yeah yeah.” Ian stammered out, but glad he wouldn't have to really lie to his brother who always seemed to see through it. “I'm good. We took today off so I can just chill for a day before going back to work.” 

Lip looked at him thoroughly before replying. “Good. Take care of yourself.” 

There was a bang as the bathroom door opened and Mick stalked into the kitchen. “Hey, asshole.”

“Dickhead.” Lip replied in greeting. 

“So what the fuck are we doing with the deck?”

Lip spread out the papers. One was a list of supplies and costs. The other was a rough drawing with dimensions labeled. It looked like a relatively basic design for a wooden railing, wooden beam slanted roof with metal sheets covering it. 

The visit went well. They migrated out onto the cement slab, Lip and mick doing most of the planning talk. Ian knew he'd really just be the muscle to help with the building. 

He noticed Lip’s eyes slipping over to him quite a few times. He hoped it was just because he was worried about Ian's mental health and not some other impossible suspicions.

______________________

Mickey and Clay snuck around back like they had planned. Just in case Lip was still there they wanted to be able to check and not burst in. Clay checked in the back window and saw Ian and Mick sitting on the couch. No other Gallagher in sight.

“I think it's ok.” He nodded at Mickey. 

They jumped up onto the four foot high cement back deck. Mickey gave a few knocks and they waited. The door opened and Mick looked them up and down.

“Ya good?”

“We're good.” Clay indicated the full backpack he was holding. 

They all got inside and sat around the living room.

“How'd it go?” Ian asked.

Clay set the backpack on the floor before tossing Ian's ID to him. “Thanks for that. You officially have a library card. And we have a shit ton of reading to do.” He started pulling thick hardcover books out of the pack.

Mick gave a small unimpressed groan. Clay saw Mickey give him a glare before asking. “How was shit here with Lip?”

“Fine.” Mick said shortly.

Clay tried to catch Ian's eye as the other redhead shuffled through the textbooks. “So… I didnt… ya know, fuck things up?”

Ian finally looked up. “No, it's all good. It was normal. He thinks it was just an off day. Which it turned out to be after all.” he gave a sad excuse of a laugh.

“Well I'm glad.” Clay said sincerely.

Mick stood up. “Well have fun with those, nerds. We'll be back later.”

They had discussed Ian’s need for some husband time for mental health reasons. Clay for one was willing to let Ian do anything he needed. He did not understand a thing about Ian's needs so he'd let the two experienced ones do what they needed to do. He replied with an “Ok.”

But he heard Mickey give a grumble next to him. He elbowed his husband before another sharp exchange of words, _or worse_ , erupted from the two Milkoviches. 

Ian stood up too. “We'll leave my phone, so just call Mick if anything comes up.”

Mick held out a finger threateningly. “Don’t you fucking dare look through his photos or texts. Or I'll kick my foot so far up your asses you'll be shitting shoelaces for days.”

Clay's eyes widened at the threat, he wanted to laugh but knew Mick was probably serious. He watched Ian roll his eyes and drop his phone onto the table. He heard Mickey mutter next to him, “Not like it’s anything we haven’t seen before.” Clay shot him a warning look, but it looked like Mick hadn’t heard.

“We'll get started on this.” Clay motioned to the table full of books. He heard Mick cough out ‘dork’ before leaving the room.

“Thanks.” Ian said before following. 

Clay looked over and Mickey whose fists were balled tightly in his thighs as he stared at the seemingly impossible task in front of them. Clay reached over to grab his knee. 

“We gotta start somewhere, babe.”

“Yeah.” Mickey said. “Just didn’t expect to be taking a fucking physics course this summer.”

“Or fall into a parallel universe?” Clay asked with a half smile.

Mickey smiled back. “Or be blowing each other down the hall from our twins.”

Clay gave a shushing sound and glanced towards the kitchen where Ian and Mick were talking and getting ready to leave. 

“Clay.” Mickey said sternly. “We're all adults. I'm not gunna keep my hands off you, and I'm not gunna fucking keep it a secret or some shit.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Clay ran a hand over his face. This whole thing was still fucking weird and he didn’t know how he felt about openly having sex around the other two who looked exactly like them.

Right then Mick's voice yelled at them. “We are leaving. Lock the door and dont fucking answer it for anyone.” 

“Ok.” Clay and Mickey yelled back together. 

Clay watched Mickey get up to lock the deadbolt behind the other men. As he walked back in, he turned on the fan set up by the side window. 

“All let’s sit here for hours reading, sitting in puddles of our own sweat.” 

“You wanna get back home?” Clay replied. When Mickey looked down and huffed, he looked at the table. “Now choose your poison.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was chipping away at this so slowly, but wanted to finish the year with one more chapter. 
> 
> Fuck 2020  
> I can't wait for a new year for us all! Stay safe and say I Love You to your special people!
> 
> (Sidenote: I loved the Ian/Mickey Hall of Shame episode, but I felt like it was basically an apology from the writers for treating Gallavich like trash in the actual show... hopefully it'll get better along with everything else in 2021.)


	5. The first mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder on names throughout:
> 
> Our universe: Ian and Mick  
> Parallel universe: Clay and Mickey

The rest of the day had been everything Ian needed it to be. _Him and Mick_. They hadn’t talked all that much as they walked and ate and joked around along the lake. They had tried to avoid the crowds by walking further away from the water, to be a little more peaceful. 

Once they got home, he and Mick had taken the laptop, some beers, and a bag of chips and retreated to their room. They had lounged in bed watching Netflix until bedtime. Ian took his meds right on time and had to admit he was feeling really good. Despite everything, being able to spend most of the day with his husband outside had been relaxing and grounding. 

“Thanks for today.” Ian said as they settled into bed.

“Of course, man.” Mick looked at him. “It’s been a while since we got to just do something for us, ya know. Not even including this whole wormhole bullshit.”

“Clay said it’s not a wormhole.”

“Fucking nerd.” Mick said.

Ian smiled. “Yup.”

They looked at each other. Just looked. Taking in every detail. Enjoying the familiarity. The faces they had been staring at for over a decade. They shared sweet kisses before Ian started nodding off. 

Ian fell asleep knowing tomorrow might bring more challenges, but Mick was there with him by his side. 

_______________________

Clay woke up the next morning and stretched his legs. When he opened his eyes he realized he was alone in bed. He looked around the room, seeing Mickey’s only pair of pants and shirt on the floor. The redhead gave a lazy smile, realizing he must be only wearing his boxers and wife beater. Just how Clay liked him the best. He stood from bed and pulled on his own tank and boxers on. Just in case one of the other two men saw him on his way to find his husband in the bathroom. He didn’t want to be completely exposed. But his mostly hard morning wood wasn’t super innocuous either. 

He looked out the bedroom door and didn’t see anyone in the hallway. So he slipped out and down to the bathroom. He spotted Mickey at the sink. And _yes_ , he was wearing just what Clay had pictured. He felt a surge of want run down his body. Just the sight of his lover made him crazy. 

Clay walked into the bathroom and plastered himself against Mickey’s back. He felt those pert asscheeks clench when they felt his hips press against him. Clay’s hands found their natural holds; one on Mickey’s hipbone, and one wrapped around to his chest. He swirled his hips slightly, letting his hardness be known. Mickey leaned back against him. 

“Hey, baby.” He nuzzled into Mickey’s neck. 

“The fuck you just call me?” 

The black haired man’s reply shocked Clay. He froze, eyes going wide. Wait. _NO_. This wasn’t happening. 

The Milkovich pulled away and turned around. And as soon as their eyes met, Clay knew. _It wasn’t his husband he’d been fondling a second ago._ And Clay saw the realization dawn on Mick as his eyes looked him up and down, seeing the slight physical difference that marked him as _not_ his partner. 

“Sorry, sorry. Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Clay sprung away as if Mick was not made of fire. “Oh my god, I didn’t… I’m so sorry.” 

Mick held up a hand between them, ice in his eyes. “I thought you were Ian. Jesus christ. Did you just touch me while… hard?”

“Oh god, I thought you were Mickey. I woke up and assumed he was here. Oh no, no, no.” 

“Your husband is downstairs making breakfast.” Mickey pointed to the door. “And you just walked in here to molest me without even checking?”

“I did _not_ molest you.” Clay barked out. “I thought you were Mickey. You look the same if you haven't noticed, Mick.” 

“I've noticed, but I haven't grabbed your dick instead of Ian's or some shit.”

Clay just stared, embarrassed and slightly pissed off at Mick’s word choice, until his eyes were drawn to something black on Mick's chest. He pointed without thinking. “Is that my name?” 

“Fuck you. It's Ian's name.” Mick spat defensively. 

“It's spelled wrong.” Clay couldn't look away from the really bad ink now that he knew it was there. 

“I fucking know, ok. Prison shit.” Mick paused then waved his hands. “Now if you're done bitching at me and rubbing your firecrotch on me… wanna get the fuck out?”

Clay started backing out the door. “It was a mistake, Mick. I'm so sorry. Let's just… forget it and… go on with our day.”

“Fucking hell.” Mick pinched his nose.

“Yeah… fuck. I'm sorry.” Clay said one more time and then made a hasty retreat to his room. 

He shut the door and pressed his back against the door, breathing heavily. How the fuck did that just happen. There had been a lot of fucked up stuff going through his head since Mickey and him fell into this world. But _never_ … mistaking the other man for _his Mickey_. And Clay fucking jabbed him with his dick. _Oh god._ He could easily blame it on just waking up, being horny, how they looked goddamn identical. But that wouldn't remove the memory of that firm body, so familiar, under his hands. Against _his dick._ And his name tattooed on that delicious looking pec. Despite the horrific spelling, it was _hot_.

No no no. Dear God. 

Clay shook his head and took a breath. He'd always been able to count on his mental determination to get through things. And now, he could force himself to be normal. He had to. Was he going to tell Mickey? He had to, right? Right. Just not right away, let him calm his mind down a bit.

He hurriedly pulled on his clothes and gave them an unhappy sniff. They really needed to get some more clothes because they couldn’t go to the laundromat every other day. He filed that away under another thing to bring up to Ian and Mick soon. 

When he exited the bedroom, he noticed the bathroom door was open. He really needed to use the toilet and brush his teeth but didn’t want to risk running into Mick alone again. He tip-toed down the hall, feeling like a child. He let out a breath when the bathroom was open. He went in and shut the door firmly behind him. 

After doing his morning business, Clay made his way downstairs. He smelled bacon and toast. He looked around quickly to figure out where everyone was before entering the kitchen. Luckily, Mickey was at the stove and Ian was looking at his phone by the fridge. Mick was in the living room, hunched over the laptop. Clay surprised himself by doing a double take to make sure he had his Milkoviches sorted out. Yeah, Mick had put more clothes on. Whew. Clay made his way over to Mickey, nodding at Ian as he passed. 

“Morning, babe.” he said quietly and leaned in to kiss Mickey’s cheek. His husband was still wearing boxers and his white wife beater, but Clay wasn’t as excited by it right now.

“Hey you.” Mickey turned to smile at him. “Food will be ready in a sec.”

“It smells great.” Clay turned to Ian, trying to suss out whether Mick had said anything to him about their unfortunate encounter upstairs. Ian just focused on his phone and Clay didn’t feel any negative vibes coming his way. 

“They have to go to work today.” Mickey said over his shoulder as he piled scrambled eggs onto four plates.

Ian put his phone down. “Yeah, we have the same shift. Won’t be back til, like, 5:45 tonight.”

“Ok.” Clay replied. “Do you think Mickey and I could go get some clothes today? Kinda sucks being stuck with what we have.”

Ian looked thoughtful. “Yeah, I mean, the library yesterday was no problem. If Mick and I are at work, you should be able to sneak to the store and back.”

“How bout some money then?” Mickey broke in, brash as always.

“Well, we don’t have much.” Ian said. 

Right then Mick walked into the kitchen. Clay noticed how he avoided looking in his general direction at all. “Don’t have much what?”

“Money.” Ian sighed. “They need more clothes, Mick.”

“Well, y’all are going to the fucking Goodwill or nothing.” Mick said as he opened the fridge to take out the milk. 

“That’s fine with us.” Clay said quickly. Maybe too quickly, trying to be normal.

“Alright.” Ian grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket. “I’ve only got like thirty in cash right now. Do you think that’s ok for now?”

Mickey walked over to Clay, now done serving up breakfast. “For now. And hopefully we’ll be outta here before we need more.” He stepped forward and snatched the bills out of Ian’s fingers.

“Yeah, thanks. We appreciate it.” Clay added.

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Mick slammed the fridge door shut. “Food ready or what? We gotta leave soon.”

“Yeah, it’s done.” Mickey motioned to the plates piled with eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. 

“Thank god. Someone knows what they’re doing this morning.” Mick mumbled. 

Clay stared at the back of his head, hoping no one else was reading into what he just said. But of course, it was just him, being weird about it. They all grabbed plates and went to sit in the living room to eat. Clay might or might not have purposefully chosen the chair furthest from where Mick was sitting. 

Ian and Mick finished eating first and headed to the kitchen with their dishes. 

“You ok, baby?” Mickey asked when they left.

“Yeah I'm good.” Clay replied avoiding eye contact. He felt guilty. But he shouldn't really, right? Nothing happened. Just a mistake. But still, his dick hadn't touched another man in years…

“Ok.” Mickey said, but his eyebrows were furrowed. 

“I'm gunna bring this back.” Clay stood quickly and grabbed his plate. He made his way to the kitchen and placed his dishes on the counter because Ian and Mick were in front of the sink. 

Ian looked up. “We gotta get going to catch the L.” 

“Ok.” Clay said, eyes shifting to where Mick was avoiding eye contact. “Um, when we go to the store, should we lock?”

“Just head out the back door. It'll be fine.” Ian said as he patted his pockets, obviously checking for smokes, wallet, and phone. 

“Ok. Thanks.”

Mick spoke but didn’t look anywhere near Clay. “And maybe get some more research done so I can figure out what I need to get Lip to look into.”

“Ok.” Clay averted his gaze too.

Ian walked past Clay with a “Bye.” and headed to the front door. 

Mick followed, staring purposefully at his feet. Clay tried to catch his eye just to make sure he wasn’t going to blow up at some point, or ignore Clay forever. No luck. Clay sighed and went back to the living room with a quick goodbye.

__________________

“Ok, but how much do we really need, babe?” Mickey asked as they walked down the t-shirt aisle of the Goodwill thrift store. 

“I don’t know, but we’ll probably be here for a while.” Clay answered, pulling out a plain white shirt in his size. “So let’s get at least one full change of clothes.”

Mickey stopped walking and turned to him. “How long?”

Clay sighed. “You know I don’t know. But we need to keep working if we’re going to get back home at all.”

Mickey’s mind started swirling. The idea of being stuck here - a world that wasn’t theirs, a world without all their things, without their jobs, without his Mom - was not an option. “Fuck, Clay. We can’t be stuck here.”

He watched Clay’s lips purse. “We won’t be. We’ll make sure of it.”

“But we’re at like, square zero here. Nothing to go on.” Mickey’s voice was getting a little high-pitched and he couldn’t help it.

Clay gripped his shoulder. “Mickey, we _will_ figure it out. We will.”

Mickey nodded. But he noticed how Clay hadn’t promised. His husband never broke a promise and he obviously wasn’t able to be sure enough to promise this…

They continued shopping silently. Mickey wasn’t really in the mood to go back to that house that might become their own private prison if shit didn’t work out soon. So they walked around, choosing some basics, and feeling thankful they found a rack of new packaged boxers and socks on sale. All in all, they walked out with a significant amount for less than thirty bucks. Mickey even found a grey plaid for $2 that he planned on ripping the sleeves off of the second they got back to the house. Gotta love thrift stores. Mickey for one had been shopping at them his whole life, even after Clay and him started making decent money. Some habits die hard. 

On the walk back to Ian and Mick’s house, Clay seemed especially distant, not just quiet. Mickey had noticed it all morning. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing going on with you?” Mickey ventured.

Clay gave a suspicious looking smile-grimace. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Really.”

“Wow, well that was convincing.” Mickey huffed.

The redhead ran a hand through his newly short hair. “Don’t worry, baby.”

Mickey looked at him questioningly but his husband was deftly avoiding long eye contact. They let the silence swirl between them. Finally, Clay said something.

“You know Mick has a tattoo of Ian’s name?”

“What?” Mickey felt his eyebrows raise, as if they had a mind of their own. “Where?”

“Oh his chest.” Clay replied. “And it’s misspelled.”

Mickey let out a disbelieving laugh. “What, what? Seriously?”

Clay gave him a grin. “Yeah, Gallagher has one ‘l’ and no ‘h’.”

Mickey laughed again, the first real laugh in a few days. “Holy fuck. I’m going to take the shit outta him for that.” He paused. “How’d you find out?”

Clay’s face suddenly sobered. “Oh, um… this morning. I saw him in a wife beater. The tattoo was visible.”

“Ok.” Mickey said, suddenly not in such a great mood looking at his husband’s face. He bit his lip as they walked another half block. Then he said it. “Clay, tell me.” He saw the redhead roll his eyes, but it didn’t hide the strange fear in his eyes. “Now.”

Clay slowed his steps. “So this morning… I saw Mick in the bathroom. How I, ya know, saw the tattoo, like I just said.”

“Get to the fucking point.”

“I might have thought he was you and kind of… hugged him.”

“Oh shit. I bet he didn’t take that very well.” Mickey said with a chuckle, imagining the other Milkovich who seemed even testier that he was. 

“Um, no he didn’t.” Clay was still looking everywhere but at Mickey.

“Clay.” he forced them to stop walking on the sidewalk.

“I also… might have been hard when I hugged him.”

Mickey’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

Clay clasped his hands in front of his chest and rambled out, “I just woke up and I thought he was you. You know how sexy you are in your boxers and tank. I hugged him but… like, we immediately realized.”

Mickey closed his mouth. “So you saw Mick in the bathroom and got hard because you think _he’s hot_?”

“Ummmm.” Clay stammered. “You - you know that you two look exactly alike.”

Mickey bit his lip, he couldn't argue that. But he still didn’t like this one bit. “So… did he, like, feel your dick?”

Clay looked at his feet again. His voice was soft. So soft Mickey couldn't make out what he said. “Clay.” He said warningly.

“I pressed it against his ass.”

“Holy shit, Clay.” 

“I know, I know. It's so fucked up.” 

“And when were you going to fucking tell me.” Mickey spat, feeling the anger rise up. “Me. Your husband.”

“I was going to tell you baby. I wanted to make sure Mick wasn't going to explode or something this morning.” 

“Yet I still had to drag it out of your tall, ginger ass.”

Clay stepped closer obviously wanting some contact. “I'm so sorry Mickey. I should have told you right away.” 

“Yeah. You fucking should have.” 

“I'm sorry baby.” Clay was looking at him with those lost puppy eyes. Mickey racked his brain but couldn't think of a reason why he should be actually furious with Clay. They looked the exact same for fucks sake. Mickey decided to lean in for a hug. He breathed into Clay's neck and felt him relax under his arms.

Mickey said softly. “I guess it's understandable.”

“Thank you Mickey.” 

Mickey pulled back realizing they were on the streets of the Southside. They didn’t need any extra attention for their affection. “Still not super happy about the thought though.”

He nodded to Clay to keep walking with him. He swung his bag to smack into his husband's ass. “You know your gunna make this up to me when we get back.” 

Clay gave him a knowing look. “And how could I possibly do that?”

Mickey raked his eyes over Clay's body. “On your knees, of course.” 

He saw Clay bite his lower lip. “Damn, baby.”

They kept walking, definitely feeling better with the air cleared between them. Mickey still had a gnawing feeling of unease and _semi-jealousy_ that Mick had felt his husband's 9 inches that morning and he hadn't. But he knew Clay probably felt worse than him, because he always over-thought everything. 

“So…” Mickey said. “Tell me you weren't kidding about that tattoo.”

Clay smirked. “I couldn't make that shit up.”

_______________

As they got off the L, Mick was mentally wringing his hands over and over. He knew he needed to tell Ian about that morning. If only because Clay would probably tell Mickey and then Ian would be super pissed off if he found out he was the only one who didn’t know. 

As they walked down the stairs, Mick pulled at Ian's arm. “Can we stop under here for a sec.” He nodded to the field under the train.

“Sure.” Ian furrowed his brows. 

Mick started pacing as Ian followed him. Ian stopped and folded his arms over his chest. 

“What's up, Mick?”

“Gimme a sec.” Mick kept pacing, mind finding a way to say this that wouldn't turn into a fistfight. Not seeing a way out he decided to just say it. He stopped in front of Ian and gave him a hard Milkovich stare. 

“This morning Clay thought I was Mickey and humped my back.”

“What?” Ian's eyes were wide.

“He came in the bathroom and kinda, like, hugged my back.” Mick glanced away. 

“What the fuck, Mick?” Ian shoved at his shoulder. “Did he try anything?”

“No no dude.” Mick gave a shove back. “We both realized and it was fine.” He paused. “But I did feel his dick.” 

“That fucker.” Ian's voice was deep, a hint of that Southside danger Mick usually loved. But Mick knew his husband was already walking a fine line of mental stability. He needed to try to defuse the situation. 

“Ian, it was a mistake. Really. We're good. I was just waiting for… the time to tell you.”

“You mean like anytime this morning?”

“I told you, didn’t I?” Mick’s voice rose to an almost-yell. Goddamn his own Southside instincts.

Ian glared at him. “Fuck, Mick. Just… fuck.”

“It's all good, Ian. I told him to open his fucking eyes and ears next time he tries to come near me.” 

Ian turned and kicked an empty beer bottle across the open grassy area. Mick watched him, hoping he'd let it go so they could all just move the fuck on. He watched the redhead run both hands through his hair before turning back around.

“You guys do look the same.” Ian's voice was even, robotic. 

“Yeah, man.” Mick replied. 

Ian met his eyes. “This isn't fucking helpful to my… fucking brain. I don’t need to worry about some lookalike coming for my husband's ass.”

“You know it wasn't like that.”

“Fuck, I know.” Ian looked at the ground again. 

Mick waited a minute, both of them shuffling and thinking and avoiding saying anything that could spark a fight. Then he took a few steps backwards.

“Let's go, Red. It's all good, right?”

“It's good, Mick.” Ian sighed and followed him. 

They walked the blocks to their house in silence. 

__________________

When they had gotten home Mickey had almost immediately asked Mick to see his tattoo. And Mickey’s mirth had quickly turned to anger when Mick gave him a tongue lashing.

Not surprisingly their interaction had come perilously close to a fistfight. Clay and Ian had physically held the two Milkoviches back. 

Dinner was quick and quiet between the four men. Mickey had made burgers and Clay had fixed a small salad. Basically they had hid in the kitchen. They were all happy to separate into their own rooms afterwards. There was no discussion of the research done that day. It was just a bit too much to be in the same room together. 

_______________

Ian's hand tightened around Mick’s neck. He shifted his hips until he heard the strangled groan escape his husband. He released his hold so he could brace himself on the bed as he thrust hard and deep, keeping that angle.

“Who owns your ass?”

“Mmmm.” Mick looked up at him with dark hungry eyes. “You do, Ian.”

“No one else gets it.”

“No. Just you.” Mick grunted and tried his best to press against Ian's thrusts. “Now give it to me like you mean it, you hunky ginger giant.” 

“I'll give it to you slut.” Ian was breathing hard as his hips jackhammered into Mick's willing hole. “You'll feel me for fucking days.” 

“Do it.” Mick shut his eyes and rode the pleasure to its peak. He felt Ian's hips lose their rhythm as he reached down to quickly strip his dick. 

Mick's legs shook as he spurted his release between them. Ian cursed and pounded a fist into the mattress beside Mick’s head. Mick grinned up knowing it was just as good for both of them.

_______________

“Damn baby, you feel so good.” Clay said between kisses as he moved inside Mickey.

Mickey looked over his shoulder and lifted his hips a bit more from his prone position on the bed. “Clay, I'm gunna cum soon.”

Clay hummed and sped up slightly, trying to keep their bodies connected as much as possible. Mickey's hand snaked between his stomach and the sheets to his straining cock. He massaged the head, giving the friction needed to get him over the edge. Clay kept his dick deep, brushing his prostate with each thrust. 

“Now, Clay.” Mick squeezed his eyes shut as he felt the tingle in his spine take over. 

Clay thrust a dozen more times before stuttering to a stop with a drawn out. “Mickeeeeey.”

When Clay rolled off to lay next to Mickey, they both turned so they were facing each other. 

Mickey reached a hand down to trace designs on Clay's hip. “You know that dick is mine.” It wasn’t a question.

Clay smiled. “I know, baby.” He reached to grip Mickey's ass cheek. “And this ass is mine.”

“All yours.” Mickey grinned and leaned in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> \- You can probably tell that Clay and Mickey routinely call each other pet names like "baby". Ian and Mickey do not.
> 
> \- I'm trying to build these characters and relationships showing the difference between the two couples. Clay and Mickey had a lot of advantages that Ian and Mick did not. And this affected their lives and how functional their relationship is. I am, in no way, trying to undermine the Ian and Mickey we know and love. Just pointing out some of the disfunctions.
> 
> \- As the story progresses, you'll see how the doppelgangers' rub off on the boys. In every good way you can imagine ;)
> 
> \- Thanks for the kudos and comments!!!


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